Darkness Embraced

by Pennington, Winter

  The blood burned and pain returned like fiery needles. I drove my teeth into my bottom lip, sealing my mouth on a sound of pain. My blood bubbled at my wrist as if it were boiling. It burned like a brand before it sank into my skin, like water poured over earth.

  The Dracule’s eyes met mine and the gold in them seemed like liquid flowing around black marble strokes. The look she gave me was darkly ardent. Her eyes flicked to my wrist and I looked. The blood darkened until it was as black as ink. It began to move as if it were crawling beneath my skin. Her sigil shaped itself like black vines flowing and curving on my skin.

  What the sigil was of, I could not comprehend. I thought it was letters, but no letters I knew were quite so strange. The last black shape arched like a scythe spreading out toward the base of my wrist. When the lines stopped moving it looked like nothing more than an elegant tattoo.

  “What is it?” I asked, admiring the dark ink against my white skin.

  “It is the mark of my name.”

  One long line curved symbol like the delicate arch of a flower’s stem.

  “What is your name?”

  “Iliaria.”

  “It does not look like your name to me,” I said in a puzzled whisper.

  “It is in no alphabet you would understand.”

  “So it is an alphabet?”

  Gracefully, she dipped her head.

  “Why does it tingle?”

  It tingled and itched very unpleasantly. It wasn’t painful, but it was uncomfortable enough that I wanted to scratch at my wrist.

  “To let you know I am near. You will feel the mark whenever I am near. You may use that mark to call upon me.” She ran the tip of her finger over the graceful flowing letters.

  “How do I do that?”

  “You have but to think of me and I will know it.”

  “You said that you would not invade my thoughts.”

  “I said I would not invade your thoughts unless you wanted me to do so. By thinking of me, you invoke me.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Iliaria left. Fretting for Vasco, I had asked questions about the vampire she had taken. Based on the description she revealed to Renata, it was blessedly not Vasco and had been some Underling I did not know. Mayhap, I should have cared more, but the truth was I didn’t, not as much as I would have had it been Vasco. It was regretful, yes, but I was relieved that it was not my only friend.

  Renata and I were alone in her room. Renata stood. She paused by the two solid black doors that led to the bathroom.

  “I need to bathe, Epiphany.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “Is that an invitation?”

  The corner of her appealing mouth rose. “Once, you would not have had to ask such a question. You would have simply followed.” She held her hand out to me. “Yes, Epiphany, it is an invitation.”

  I took the hand she offered and allowed her to lead me through the doors. The Sotto did not have electricity. However, there were those of our kind some years ago that saw fit to invent some kind of crude plumbing. There were toilets, for us as well as the Donatore. Though we vampires did not excrete solid waste, there was water in blood that was released in a rather humanly fashion. When the Sottos had first been built, away from the rural places and hidden in nature, the earliest of our kind had seen the necessity of having water and grounds to hunt. It was not for us, but the Donatore, for they were human and needed to eat and drink.

  Following the advancement of the modern world, we learned to dig and bury pipes, connecting them to rivers that were in constant rich supply. It was for that reason Sottos were almost always found near a natural water supply, no matter where they were in the world.

  I had never seen the pipes myself, nor did I know how they had obtained the materials, though I imagine that had somewhat to do with the Cacciatori.

  The water was cool or warm, never hot. When one took into consideration that we did not feel the cold as mortals do, it was not such a great downside. Of course, I’d never asked the Donatore if it bothered them overmuch. They did have more rustic means to heat whatever water they needed, if they so desired.

  Renata set the stopper in the tub before turning the chrome handle. The water spilled in a rapid flow from the carving set into the wall. The carving was of a lion’s head and the water spilled from its gaping maw.

  She stepped over the high edge of the bath and beckoned me with a glance. Renata swept her hair aside, guiding the cloak of silk over one slim white shoulder.

  The sight of her nude body had always pleasantly distracted my mind and scrambled my wits, but seeing her curvaceous form reclining in the bath, even after having sex with the Dracule, still called to my body.

  “Epiphany,” she said, half-laughing, with a smile that made her eyes sparkle with mirth, “come here.”

  I went, obediently sinking into the wide bath. She swept the curls from my back and placed a kiss against the sensitive skin at the back of my neck. I shivered. Her arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against the front of her.

  “Do you remember when I turned you?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Do you remember what I said before I gave you the kiss of death?”

  I nodded.

  “What did I say to you?”

  I remembered the words as if she’d only just spoken them yesterday. “You said that you would always take care of me.”

  Her hands guided me and I turned, sinking to my knees in front of her. My hair spilled across my shoulders, spilling over my breasts and into the water.

  She touched my face and gave me a look of tender affection.

  “I meant what I said.”

  “I know,” I said, for I felt in my heart that she spoke truth. In spite of the many misconceptions I may have had, I felt her sincerity in those few words.

  Renata took my hand, touching the sigil at my wrist.

  “I do not want to lose you to her,” she said and there was vulnerability in her eyes that I never expected to see. In some distant part of her being, she felt threatened by the Dracule. I touched her neck, tracing her skin.

  “You won’t.”

  “Do you give me your oath?” she asked with a thread of amusement in her voice.

  “You have my oath. You always did.”

  “Epiphany.”

  I lowered my face, brushing my lips across the arch of her brow.

  “Renata,” I said.

  She held me until I moved to turn off the faucet. Afterward, we bathed in silence. Renata ran her fingers through the heavy mass of my hair, rubbing soap into the strands. I relaxed under her hands, feeling strangely at peace in spite of the knowledge that someone in the Sotto had summoned a Dracule to kill us. If it had not been for the Dracule’s single-minded curiosity, we both might’ve been dead. When offered moments of peace, one should be worthy and aware.

  *

  I took a normal pace down the stone hallway, carrying the fox blade in my right hand. When I mentioned that I wanted to leave to check on Vasco, it was not only Cuinn who had protested, but Renata had also insisted that I kept the blade at my side.

  Cuinn was silent, allowing me to walk the long hall in relative quiet, with the exception of my thoughts. I wanted to run to check on Vasco, even though I believed the Dracule. I would go to Vasco’s room and wait for him to rise. I had to see him to be sure. I was unaccustomed to being awake before him. The older and most powerful vampires always woke first.

  I tried to distract my mind by the feeling of that power as I navigated the deserted hallways before the sun had set. When would I have another chance to be awake before the others? I frowned as the stick of optimism was washed away. If it hadn’t been for Cuinn alerting me to danger, I wouldn’t have been walking the halls. Still, the danger was out there. The Dracule may no longer be a threat, but someone had summoned her. Someone had asked her to kill the vampires of the Rosso Lussuria.

  I made it to the end of the hall and turned right down a smaller adjoining h
allway. I walked past the wide-open sitting room and continued until the hallway spilled open into the Elders’ Quarters. The walls of the Elders’ Quarters had been placed in such a way that each of the black wooden doors seemed welcoming and inviting. The stone walls formed an octagon connecting to the narrow hall. I headed for the door on the far right, but a voice brought me to a halt.

  “Isn’t it a little early for you to be awake?”

  I turned on my heel. The last time Lucrezia and I had met without the company of another’s presence, I’d ended up with scars and painful memories. A sense of dread unfurled like a serpent in the pit of my stomach. I willed myself to stillness.

  I had not known she was powerful enough to wake so early.

  She leaned against the doorway clothed in nothing but a white sheet. She smiled as if she were pleased with herself, as if she’d gotten the exact reaction she was hoping to get out of me. She took a step forward and my fist tightened around the fox blade, forcefully enough that her eyes flicked from my face to the blade.

  “Are you going to kill me, Epiphany?”

  “Are you going to try to hurt me, Lucrezia?”

  Her voice fell into a breathy whisper. “Do you want me to hurt you, Epiphany?”

  I struggled not to shudder against the memory of that voice in my ear. “If you try to hurt me, Lucrezia, I will try to kill you.”

  “Truly?” she asked, taking another step forward. She looked me up and down. “I heard you liked pain, Epiphany. A great deal, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “I have never liked your kind of pain.”

  She smiled genuinely enough. “Oh, I remember, my dear. I remember very, very well.” She kept moving toward me and I fought every instinct in my body that screamed to take a step away. I kept my grip tight on the sword, ready to raise it if provoked. I would not let her hurt me again.

  “What’s the matter?” She stopped leaving a few feet of space between us. “You seem a little edgy. Do I make you uncomfortable?”

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t see her move. She disarmed me in a matter of moments. My back hit the wall as the blade fell to the stone floor with a clatter. She caught my wrists and used her strength to raise my arms above my head. She ground my wrists into the rough stone.

  “Mmm, you smell of fear.” Her lips brushed my neck and I flinched. She kissed my neck, softly, so softly, betraying the harsh reality of her own sadistic desire. Her lips trailed a path over my exposed throat, threatening to travel lower. I twisted my body away from her, away from the wall. I managed to break away, but Lucrezia was too fast.

  She caught my wrist and tried to use it to jerk me back to her. In order to avoid being brought up against her body, I sank to my knees in defense. She turned my wrist in her hand, clinging with fingers like hard shackles. She looked down at the Dracule’s mark embedded in my flesh and her eyes widened.

  Lucrezia was afraid of the Dracule. I saw it, and saw my way clear of her.

  She regained her composure, her expression closing down to show nothing but bitter malice.

  “What is this, Epiphany?”

  “What does it look like?”

  Her fingers cinched tighter and I fought the urge to make a sound of pain. It felt like she was trying to pulverize the bones of my wrist.

  “It looks like the mark of one of the Great Sires,” she said almost casually, “but what would one of the Great Sires want with an Underling like you?”

  To that, I didn’t have an answer. Lucrezia’s hold loosened. She let me go. I got to my feet in a painfully slow move and forced myself not to go for the discarded fox blade. It would amuse Lucrezia if I showed fear by lunging for a discarded sword.

  I did not understand her expression. The white sheet stayed wrapped around her, and I realized that before she opened the door she had known I was out in the hallway. If she had not known, she would not have bothered tucking the sheet into place. I looked at her and knew she would not attack me for fear of the Dracule’s wrath.

  The Dracule had been right to some extent, bearing her mark alone already proved to be some sort of protection.

  Nonetheless, it did not erase Lucrezia’s desire to inflict pain. She would only have to come up with better ways, more clever ways, of hurting Renata and me than outright challenge. It took me a moment to realize that I was sensing what Lucrezia felt. My thoughts were only the translation of those feelings. We stood there, wrapped in silence.

  “Why do you want to hurt the Queen?”

  She scoffed at me, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Who spews such blasphemy that I would intend harm to the Queen?”

  “Others do not have to do the telling,” I said, “Your emotions do an adequate amount of telling for them.”

  “Are you accusing me of betrayal against the Queen?” she asked, adding harshly. “Against your precious mistress?”

  I went to retrieve the fox blade then, remaining carefully alert while sure in the knowledge that she would not try a direct attack when I bore the mark of the Great Siren.

  “You crave power, Lucrezia, everyone knows,” I said blandly. “I am simply saying one should be wary of which powers they chase, for some powers have a way of chasing back.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  I gave her as blank a look as I could muster, because being this close to her was still terrifying.

  “You little cunt.” She took a step forward, hands clenching into fists at her sides. “You are threatening me.”

  I turned the fox blade in my hand without raising it. It caught the flickering torchlight. The movement also caught her attention, giving her pause.

  “It is you who should be wary, Epiphany. You and your precious mistress.” She practically spat the words before turning to return to her room.

  I stared at her door long after it had closed, thinking furiously. Were her words merely a spiteful threat or did they hold some weight? I strongly sensed that her dislike of Renata and me was genuine , though I did not understand it.

  I approached Vasco’s door and stepped into the safety of his room. My head was full of thoughts. Unfortunately, none that made me feel any wiser.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Vasco’s room was without light. I tried to move gracefully, tried to remember my way around furniture, but despite my best efforts, ended up banging my left hip roughly into the corner of his cherry oak dresser. I hissed through my teeth, cursing myself for not waiting until my vision adjusted to the dark. I felt along the wood’s smooth polished surface for a box of matches. The fox blade began to glow, casting sufficient light by which to see. I wasn’t worried about the noise. Vasco was still dead to the world. I was a little surprised he had not woken yet. If Lucrezia had already risen for the night, surely he would have as well? I gave up searching for a box of matches and sat on the edge of Vasco’s bed. I placed the fox blade in my lap.

  His hair was still in its multitude of little intricate braids, his features serene and peaceful in his daylit death. He was naked from the waist up, with the blankets shielding his lower body. Two small silvery hoops glinted at both of his nipples.

  I pulled my legs up to sit cross-legged, waiting.

  I didn’t have to wait long. Vasco’s body bolted upright as he gasped, taking the breath of life into his lungs.

  By the sword light I saw his pupils were constricted.

  Little by little, his pupils expanded.

  “Colombina?” He frowned. “What are you doing?”

  I leaned back against the wooden footboard. “Waiting for you to rise, il mio fratello.”

  Vasco’s face erupted in a ferocious grin. “You do not have to say il, mia sorella.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Duly noted,” I said. “I only know what I’ve picked up here and there.”

  “Sì.”

  “Obviously, there is room for improvement.”

  “Your Italian is a great deal better than what it was.”

  “Thanks to you.”

&nb
sp; “I get all the credit?” he asked, blinking at me. “Does our Queen get none?”

  “You know she rarely speaks Italian. Every now and then, she’ll throw in a few choice words if the English equivalent escapes her.”

  He kept grinning. “That is a rare occurrence.”

  “Yes,” I said, “it is.”

  He glanced at the sword glowing in my lap. “You need light?”

  “No, but it would be appreciated.”

  Vasco leaned over and opened the top drawer of his nightstand. He lit the lantern on top of it with a match. If there was one thing the Sotto was well stocked with aside from human blood, it was matches. The sword’s glow began to gradually dim, until it stopped glowing altogether and we sat in the warm glow of firelight.

  “You are up early,” he said.

  “Yes. I rose much earlier than usual. Do you wish to hear why, my brother?”

  “Sì.”

  I touched the sword’s blade with the tips of my fingers. “Cuinn called me to rise and I woke.”

  “The spirito would not do such a thing unless you were in danger.”

  “That is true,” I said. “Cuinn sensed something lurking in the hallways.”

  “And our Queen?” he asked.

  “He bid me wake her,” I said. At the look of perplexity on his face, I continued, “I used sword and blood to wake her.”

  “I had forgotten the spirito blades were capable of such a thing.”

  “It would have been nice if someone had told me they were.”

  “What was in the Sotto?”

  I raised my right hand. The sleeve of the tunic fell back to reveal the dark sigil embedded in my flesh. At first, it didn’t register. He stared at the mark for a long moment and when he realized what it was, his eyes widened.

  “Is that…?”

  “The mark of one of the Great Sires?” I asked.

  “Sì, is it?” He leaned forward, tilting his head like a crow that was inspecting something shiny.